Fear
by Deanyfan101
Summary: Dean meets another hunter while hunting a wendigo.  The new hunter has a fear of real life.  Can he help conquer her fear?
1. Chapter 1

"Tru?" I called, running through the woods, looking for my twenty year old sister.

My sister and I had been working on a series of mysterious disappearings around a local farm. All of the evidence pointed to werewolves; claw-marks, prints, but none of it made sense.

The bodies were never found and there was never any blood. My sister had gone missing about twenty minutes in. I'd tried calling her a few times, but she never picked up. I really freaked when I found her cell phone and hunting knife, and I've been looking for her since.

I heard a limb snap behind me and whirled around, gun ready.

"Whoa, hey. I know where your sister is," said a tall man with short brown hair and blazing green eyes.

I kept my gun pointed at his chest and blew my black hair out of my face.

"What?"

"I know where she is. My brother's with her."

My voice shook a little, "How do I know you aren't one of them?" 

He flashed me a reassuring smile, "Well, why would I need a gun if I was gonna sprout claws, and sharp teeth. Besides, the moon's full and nothing's hiding it."

I lowered my gun and ran a hand through my hair. I suddenly realized that my whole body was shaking.

"Have you ever done this before?" he asked me, patting my shoulder.

"Yeah, I've been hunting since I was five."

"Well, are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just worried."

"Here," he said, pulling a yellow bag out of his pocket and handing me a few m&m's.

"Thanks," I said and popped them in my mouth.

"So what's your theory on the disappearences?"

"Well, my brother and I think it's werewolves. We know it's werewolves. I mean, the claws, the prints. But there's never a body. No blood. The only other explanation would be that they're keeping the victims alive, but werewolves don't typically kill for food, right? They kill for fun."

"Yeah," I agreed, loading my gun with two more silver bullets, "but let's hope these ones do keep the victims alive, because if they don't then my sister and your brother are as good as dead."

The man was silent. Feeling frustrated, I grabbed his shoulder and forced him to face me.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Dean. And you?" He flashed a cocky grin.

"Andy."

"Nice to meet you, Andy."

My God those eyes. Wow!!

"Do you have any idea where we're going?" I asked.

He laughed, "You don't trust me, do you?"

"Not really."

"Well, I wouldn't put my brother's life at risk, so don't worry."

Suddenly, a terrifying thought came to my mind.

"Dean?" I said, stopping abruptly and leaning on a tall oak tree.

"What? Are you okay?"

"What if we were all wrong? What if it's not a werewolf? What if it's a wendigo?"

"Son of a bitch. A wendigo has basically the same body shape and all that. And that would explain why no one's ever found, but that's good right? That means Sammy and your sister are okay."

I shook my head, "No, there's a pattern. Each victim goes missing every twenty-third year on a full moon. Wendigo eat every twenty-third year. The last disappearance was twenty-three years ago, tonight."

"Shit," he said and whirled around, "Come on, you son of a bitch! Where are you? Come and get me!"

I heard something in the trees just yards away.

"Shhh."

Dean stopped and pulled out a flare gun.

Two beady red eyes stared back at us from the trees and Dean and I both raised our guns.

"Here, fugly, fugly, fugly," Dean whispered. I had to bite my lip to keep from cracking up.

Sure enough, the wendigo shot out from the trees and headed for Dean.

There was a bright light and a loud bang, and the beast fell to the ground, dead.

"Gross."

Dean turned back to me and grabbed my hand.

"Come on," he said, pulling me along, "We have to hurry."

At least two minutes later, my lungs were burning, and it seemed like Dean was pulling me along faster.

He sort of jumped over a high root, and since I don't usually run as fast as I was now being flung, my foot caught the root, and I fell face first into the mud.

"Dude!" I yelled, peeling myself out of the ground, "Not so fast! My feet have to touch the ground safely!"

"Well, if you could keep up, we wouldn't be having this problem! Now hurry!"

Then, we heard a girl screaming. I would have known that scream anywhere.

"Tru!" Suddenly feeling a burst of adrenaline, I sprang off the ground and sprinted ahead of Dean.

"Hey, wait up!" he called.

I felt tree limbs whipping at my face, but I didn't care. Tru could hold herself together for most things, but she'd only been hunting for a few years, and we had never faced a wendigo before.

Just yards in front of me, I saw a wide cave.

I sped up, not noticing the amount of mud and leaves in front. I slipped and landed right on my left leg. I gritted my teeth as pain shot through my ankle.

Dean sprang up behind me and fell with a loud grunt next to me.

"Are you okay?" I asked, panting to catch my breath.

He nodded and grabbed my ankle, "Yeah, but you're not."

It felt a little awkward, him holding my ankle so carefully, considering we had just met, but I didn't have enough energy to fight him.

"Maybe you should wait here while I go get Sammy and... Tru, is it?"

"Yeah, it's Tru," I said and gasped as he pressed on my swollen ankle, "And I'm going in. I'm not just going to sit out here and do nothing."

"Your ankle's sprained. It could do serious damage if you keep hunting on it. You should wait for us here. You can trust me."

And I wanted to trust him, too. I just didn't want to leave my sister.

"I cant. I have to get her."

He sighed, "If you're sure."

He grabbed my hand and carefully hoisted me up.

"You're sure you wanna do this?" he confirmed.

"Yes, I'm sure."

I let him help me over a tall board made to keep tresspassers out. He jumped over it first and lifted me over it.

It was hard to keep my gun steady while limping on an excruciatingly painful ankle. Every so often, I hit a patch of gravel that was lower than the rest, and I always seemed to step in the filled-in holes with my sprained ankle.

I grimaced and said a few choice words.

"You really have a thing for falling, don't you?" he asked, peering into one of the many deserted rooms.

"I'm not answering that question."

Hole. Stupid holes.

"Careful, there, Skippy. Find anything?"

I poked my head around a corner a couple of feet down, "No. Wait, yes!"

About six yards away, I could see the glimmer of my sister's engagement ring. She was supposed to have gotten married over the weekend, but her fiancee was killed in a robbery.

I felt like running as fast as my ankle would allow, but unfortunately, it was getting heavier by the second.

Dean walked ahead of me and shone his flashlight in every possible spot.

My ankle throbbed. I had to lean against the cold, damp wall to stay steady.

"Son of a... Andy?" Dean said, grabbing my elbow, "You okay?"

"My ankle keeps throbbing," I said and gasped when a sharp pain swam across my ankle and up my leg.

"Okay, just sit here, keep your gun ready. I'll go get Sam and Tru and I'll be back."

"No, no, no!"

"Why are you so stubborn?"

"I have a thing about staying by myself in small dark spaces."

He growled, "You're gonna get hurt. That thing could go after you, and you'd be helpless. You should stay here!"

"Dean, I'm fine. I've been through a lot worse."

He leaned my back on the wall and got in my face. I could feel my heart pounding. He was too close for comfort.

"You need to trust me, Andy."

"No, you need to trust me. I'm fine, and I'm going to help Tru, whether you like it or not."

"I think this is a really bad idea."

He sounded like he actually cared, but I shook my head.

"No offense, Dean, you're really cute. I mean, _really_ cute, but we just met. I appreciate that you care, don't get me wrong, but why should I take advice from a perfect stranger?"

I shrugged out of his grip and limped around a corner to get my sister, who fortunately, was in the next mini-cave with her hands chained to the wall.

Next to her was a tall man, about twenty-two, with shaggy brown hair and brown eyes. He was also chained to the wall. I could only assume this was "Sammy".

Tru looked scared. She looked behind me and I followed her gaze. There was a huge wendigo just inches away from me and I raised my gun. Before I could pull the trigger, it lunged on me and knocked me to the ground.

Multiple shots reverberated off the stone walls and rang in my ears.

I suddenly had a new respect for Dean. He saved my life... again.

He came over to help me up, "I told you. Told you six times this was a really bad idea. You should have stayed outside, but no. You're too damn stubborn!"

"Don't give me that right now. We'll argue later."

"Fine." 

"Andy," my sister said, "This is rediculous."

I walked over to her and picked the locks around her wrists. Dean did the same for Sam.

Tru pushed me over.

"A wendigo, Andy? You pulled me out of school to hunt a wendigo? I had a life, friends, a good job. I was supposed to get married Saturday, but I was out hunting what I whought was a werewolf! I could have saved Michael Friday, but thanks to you, I didn't get back in time."

I pulled myself up and grabbed the front of her jacket and pushed her to the wall.

"This is NOT my fault, Tru. You were supposed to salt and burn the bones, but you didn't. DON'T blame Michael's death on me just because there was nothing you could do!"

I felt Dean's hand on my shoulder and I turned around.

"Easy, tiger. You can worry about killing her later. Right now, we have to get out of here."

"Dean," said Sam from the room's entrance, "There's a bigger one comming this way fast!"

Dean looked around. There was no way we'd be able to outrun this thing.

"Here, go, go, go!"

He shoved Sam, Tru, and me into a tiny room with sunlight creeping through the crack in the roof.

We were cramped and the entrance was only about four inches wide, and I couldn't see through it once Dean climbed in. It was out of my viewpoint.

I suddenly realized that Dean and I were crushed together. He was right in front of me and I had no room left to move an inch.

"You know," he said with a smug grin on his face, "I don't usually do this until at least the first date."

"Are you always such a sexual smartass?"

"Ouch."

We heard a loud growl outside and the wendigo swiped a clawed paw at us. Luckily we were too far back.

I heard Tru whimper and looked over. Sam was right next to me and Tru was right next to Dean. She had her back to Sam and both looked slightly uncomfortable.

"Enjoying yourself, Sammy?" Dean smirked, dodging another swipe.

"Shut up."

I dodged the claws as they whipped at my face and accidentally pressed closer into Dean, who cleared his throat.

The last swipe caught Dean's shoulder and he grunted, "Shit."

"At least now I'm not the only hurt person."

"Oh, my God," Tru said, "There's a spider right in front of me."

I laughed, picked the spider up by its legs, and set it down on Dean's shoulder.

"Oh, okay. Put the spider on the hurt guy."

"It's just a scratch, Dean," Sam pointed out. He looked like he was trying to press as far as possible into the wall to make Tru more comfortable.

"Do you think it's gone?" I asked Dean. He looked out and pointed his flashlight in a corner.

"No, I think it's waiting for us to come out. And it's sitting on that wall, so if I could reach my gun, it's possible that I could get a very clear shot at it. Unfortunately, the gun is in my belt."

I grinned, "So that's what that was. Left, right?"

"Left. Why?"

I had a plan. It would get me in trouble, but we had to do something.

"If I can reach it, maybe, I can blow that son of a bitch up."

"Whoa, hey! That is NOT a gun!"

"Sorry."

I pulled my hand up a little and found the gun.

"Ha!"

It was heavy for such a small thing. From where I was, I couldn't see the opening, so unfortunately, I had to lean full on Dean. I felt the muscles in his chest move as he tried to give me room to see.

"It's too dark," I said, "I can't see anything."

Dean handed me his flashlight, "Here."

"Thanks."

I pointed the beam through the opening and was fully aware that I was practically welded into Dean. My heart was pounding and his breath was hot on the top of my head. I was slowly losing my composure.

Dean and I were pressed chest to chest, in a small cave.


	2. Chapter 2

"Andy?"

"Not now."

"No, Andy."

"What, Dean?" I snapped.

"You've kind of got your leg in a certain, very important part of my body."

"I felt my face blush bright red.

"Well, you're gonna have to deal with it, aren't you? I can't get a good shot."

"Hurry. Kinda uncomfortable here."

"So," I laughed, "Big bad ladies' man _does_ have a sensitive side."

"Yeah. And your knee's kinda digging into it." 

I sighed and leaned on the wall behind me, "Well, do you want this over with?"

"Yes," he snapped, "But I don't want you crushing my chick magnet!"

Sam made a gagging sound, "That's just wrong, Dean."

Tru gasped when Sam faked a barfing sound.

"I'm not really hurling."

"No, your belt buckle's digging into my spine."

"Oh, sorry."

I leaned on Dean again, making sure to keep my leg away from his "chick magnet".

I looked out again and finally got a good, clear shot. I took three shots, all aimed at the wendigo's head. All three hit home and splattered its brains everywhere.

"Nice shot," Dean commented when I leaned back, "For a girl."

He pushed his way out and I followed him. My ankle, realizing that I had to support myself now, gave out and I toppled down.

Before I could hit, however, Dean grabbed my arm and steadied me.

"You're so lucky I'm here," he said, "Otherwise, you'd be splattered on the gravel."

"You're so conceited. But thanks."

I grabbed my gun from next to the wall with the chains, and followed my sister through the long, winding corridors and into the sun breaking through the trees.

I felt Dean walk up behind me and I turned around. He smiled.

"Seriously, though," he said, "We should go get some coffee or something."

"Sure," I agreed, "But why don't we go to a bar tonight instead?"

He nodded, "Now you're speaking my language. Pick you up at eight?"

"Yeah. Eight sounds fine."

"Cool, where are you staying?"

"Blackridge Marshall Motel," Tru said, grabbing my shoulder.

"Really?" Dean asked, "That's where Sam and I are staying. What room?"

"338," I replied.

"I knew that '66 Mustang Fastback out there looked familiar."

"Yeah. It's my baby."

"That's awesome."

I smiled, "So was that your '67 Impala out there?"

"Sure was. She's my baby."

I nodded, "Nice ride."

"Thanks."

I started to walk forward, but my swollen ankle felt like lead, and I stumbled.

"Stop doing that," he said, grabbing my hand, "You're gonna hurt yourself. Come on, Sam and I will walk you two to your car."

We walked through the woods in silence, listening to the birds and the river to find our way out.

Dean opened the passenger side door for me and shut it once I was safely seated and waved. I smiled and waved back as Tru got behind the wheel.

"You like that guy, don't you?" she asked.

"Shut up and drive," I snapped, "I've got work to do."

When we got to the room, I sat on the bed with an icepack on my ankle, flipping through the channels until the swelling went down.

Then, when I could walk comfortably, I took a long, hot shower.

I rummaged through my duffle bag at 5:45.

"Andy," Tru said, "You're not wearing jeans and a t-shirt, are you?"

I shrugged, "It's all I have."

She growled, "Hold on."

A few minutes later, she pulled from her bag, a black tank top, black a-symetrical skirt, and black pumps.

Surprisingly, Tru's clothes fit me perfectly. I combed my hair and walked out of the bathroom.

"Andy. You look sexy."

"Thanks, Tru," I rolled my eyes.

She smiled.

"I just don't like how short the top is," I said.

"Don't complain, Andy. He likes Metallica. I heard it when he started his car. If the top's short, he'll be able to see their symbol tattooed on your stomach."

She handed me a diamond belly ring, "Switch 'em."

"No, Tru, this skull is my signature. I'm not switching."

"Fine."

"Crap, I forgot my ring," I said, running to the bathroom as Dean knocked on the door.

Tru let him in while I searched for my favorite ring. It had a dragon wrapped around an emerald. It was my good-luck charm, and I never went anywhere without it.

I walked out of the bathroom and Dean smiled.

"Dude! You look... Sexy."

He noticed my tatto and grinned, "Metallica?"

I smiled, "Ready?"

He nodded, held the door open, and led me to his car.

We spent a majority of the ride to the bar talking about our most interesting hunts.

Dean pulled into the parking lot of an old, eighties-style bar.

We walked to a booth in the back of the bar and Dean went to get some beers.

He returned a minute later with two glass bottles and set one down in front of me, sliding in the seat across the table.

"So," I said, "That Meg chick. You said she was possessed?"

Dean nodded, "Yeah, Sammy and I tried to kill her a couple hundred times and she wouldn't die. But I think she pretty much _did_ die when we exorcised her."

We were silent for a minute. Suddenly, a question came to my mind.

"What are some of your worst fears?" I asked, staring down at my beer.

He grinned at me, "What brought that up?"

I shrugged, "Curious, I guess."

"Just don't laugh," he said and began to count them off, "One, I'm afraid of losing Sam. Long story.

"Two, I have a serious fear of flying. Ask Sammy if you don't believe me.

"Three, being turned down by a hot girl.

"Four, midgets."

I laughed, "Midgets?"

"Okay, smartass," he said, "What are your worst fears?"

I turned serious, "Me? Pretty much anything not involved with the supernatural; rapists, murderers, car crashes, plane crashes. Anything that can't be solved with holy water, silver bullets, or stakes."

He didn't laugh like I expected him to.

"Why?"

I shrugged again, "I guess it's because I've been hunting for twenty-one years. With hunting, I know I can get out of it, relatively unscathed, but in real life, I could die. I mean, I know real-life is easier, but at least fighting ghosts and werewolves, it's what I was trained to do."

"I never thought of it like that," he said, "I just figured that..."

Dean was cut off when a tall man with short brown hair ran in sweating. He held a .44 Magnum in his hand and pointed it around the bar.


	3. Chapter 3

People started screaming and ducking. Dean pulled me down under the table, "Stay down."

"Everyone out from behind the bar, now!" he shouted, "Get on this wall and sit down!"

Not wanting to piss the man off, Dean grabbed my hand and led me to the far wall and into the front row of people. My face burned with fear and Dean cradled me to him, trying to protect me.

"This is a hostage situation!" he called, shutting all the blinds and locking the door, "And just to make sure there's no funny business, one of you is coming with me."

He scanned the crowd and my heard dropped when he grabbed my upper arm and jerked me away from Dean. He put my head right next to his and pressed the muzzle hard into my temple.

Dean jumped up and pulled out his gun.

"Let her go!" he shouted.

The man cowered behind me and cocked his gun, "Put your gun down or I'll blow her pretty little head off!"

Dean hesitated.

"I'm serious!" He pushed the gun harder and I felt tears rolling down my face. I was terrified. Here, I was afraid of murderers, and I had a gun poked into my skull.

"Alright!" Dean yelled and pulled his finger off the trigger, "I'm putting it on the floor."

The metal of the gun scraped the tile floor and Dean stood back up.

"Kick it over here. Now!"

Dean kept his eyes on me and licked his lips, kicking the gun sharply.

The man whispered in my ear, "Pick it up, put the safety on, and take out every damn bullet."

I bent down and picked it up, doing exactly what he said. The entire time, I felt the muzzle of his gun cold on the back of my head. The silver bullets clanked to the ground.

Dean glared at the man as he jerked me back up next to him and jabbed the gun back to the side of my head.

He laughed as he scattered the bullets with his shoe.

"A sawed off gun? Silver bullets? Come on, Dean! That's a little immature, don't you think?"

"Who the hell are you?" one of the bartenders asked.

Realization suddenly flicked behind Dean's deep green eyes.

"Oliver? Oliver Mitchell? What are you doing?"

Oliver's voice shook, "My sister is dead because of you and your damn brother! And now you're both going to pay, and we'll start with your little girlfriend here."

He cocked his gun, I gasped, and Dean shouted.

"No! Wait! Don't hurt her, let her go."

"I'm not letting her go! It's you or her."

Dean stood still, and for the first time, I saw actual fear in his eyes.

Oliver whispered, "See? He doesn't care enough to risk his life for you."

I... was... pissed. This guy ruined an amazing night and there was nothing I could do to stop him.

I stomped his foot hard and he kneed the back of my leg. I almost choked on his arm when I fell.

"I have more tolerance that that, you stupid BITCH!"

He reached behind his back and pulled a chair from a table, throwing me down in it. He pulled another chair up and pointed from Dean to the chair. Dean obeyed immediately.

Oliver pointed to a bartender and held up a wad of rope.

"Put your hands behind your back," he ordered.

Dean and I ded as we were told and I felt him grab my hands and squeeze them reassuringly.

The bartender wound the rope around our legs and upper-bodies until we couldn't move.

(A/N) I'm not sure how to do the reviews thing, but if you'd like to email me, just go to my profiles page and email me. Reviews welcome.


	4. Chapter 4

Twenty minutes later, with no kind of scary action, the whole bar seemed bored out of its mind. Oliver was sitting on a stool at the bar and kept twirling his gun.

Dean and I were banging the backs of our heads together gently after an unsuccessful attempt at playing rock-paper-scissors behind our backs. That game is really difficult when you can't tell when the other person's cheating. My legs were numb and I was beginning to feel tired.

"Just so you know," Dean said, "This is the worst hostage situation in the history of the world."

"Well, I'm trying to decide whether I should kill you now or later."

"Good luck with that," Dean rolled his eyes.

"Hey, Dean?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Tell me some stuff about your family. Like your mother, your father, your brother. All that."

Our heads smacked a little too hard, but we didn't stop.

"Well, I can't really remember a lot about my mom. She died when I was four, but from what I can remember of her, she was real pretty and sweet."

"What'd she look like?"

"She had blond hair and green eyes. Kinda like mine. And she always smelled like raspberries when we went grocery shopping."

"I'll bet she was nice to everyone, huh?"

"Perfect."

"What about your dad? What was he like?"

"He was a real hunter. Best I've ever met. He was in the army once and I guess after Mom died, he sort of brought his army training to us. I can't remember a time when Sammy and I weren't training, unless we got sick or hurt. Then we couldn't really help it."

"Was he nice?"

"Most of the time, to me and Sam. Oh, and Caleb and Pastor Jim, too. Only, he always smelled like melted metal and gun powder."

"What about Sam?"

"Sammy. Growing up, he was always so innocent and naive. He didn't want to hunt and he and Dad got in a lot of fights over it. Then he decided to go to college. Dad wasn't too happy about that either, but he always made it a point to somehow check up on Sam."

He sighed, "So, what about you and your family? Tell me about them."

I popped my neck.

"My mom died when I was six. She was a hunter too. I remember, she'd always give me a bottle of holy water and a gun with rock-salt bullets to keep with me at night, because I was afraid that there was a demon in my closet. Don't laugh, I was little. And I always made a sort of gagging noise when she and my dad started kissing in front of me. They used to tell me to shut up, I'd know what it felt like later, but eventually they just ignored it."

"Cool. What about Tru?"

"She's not technically my sister. My dad saved her from her burning house. I was eight and she was two. My dad forced her to go off to college when she got out of high school. And believe it or not, her real name is actually Tru. It's not short for anything."

"And your dad?"

"I'm not sure where he is. He sent us on a wild goose-chase, hunting for a bunch of different things, and he calls us every once in a while to tell us that he's getting closer to finding the man that killed my mom. She was murdered by a crazed robber."

"Seems familiar. That's what my dad did, only he never called, and he was looking for a demon instead."

"We kind of have a lot in common. For instance, we both seem to get trapped by a lot of psycho assholes."

"Very true."

I craned my head back and stopped the banging, "Hey, Oli-oli-ox-n-free! You might as well let us go. If you were going to kill us at all, you'd have done it by now. Besides, you have no freakin' clue what to do, so you might as well give up."

He walked over to me and slapped me across the face. Dean yelled at him, "Hey! It's not polite to hit a girl, jackass!"

He punched Dean across the jaw and grabbed his chin, "You're in no position to be smarting off right now, Winchester."

Oliver walked back over to the bar and I turned my head a little.

"Winchester? You're John Winchester's son? I knew him."

"You did?"

"Yeah, met him at the Roadhouse. Tru was kidnapped by a shapeshifter before she went to college. He helped me find her. I owe my life to that man."

"He never told me about you."

"Did you ever tell Sam about the hunts you went on while he was in college?"

"Good point."

We paused as a familiar, yet highly unwanted song began to play over the jukebox.

"Damnit!" Dean exclaimed, "As if we weren't already being tortured! Now we have to listen to REO Speedwagon? We must be in Hell!"

"You're not a fan either?" I asked flatly.

"Not really. REO Speedwagon kinda gets on my nerves."

"Well, I've heard some okay songs by REO, but "Can't Fight This Feeling"? That's kinda pushin' it."

"I'll say."

Another fifteen minutes later. Still bored to Hell, but at least that God-forsaken song is over.

"You know, Sammy's gonna get worried about me not coming home this late. Wait... Scratch that. Nevermind," Dean said.

I laughed, "But Tru _will_ get worried if I don't come home. I'm not typically a party-type girl."

"You sure seemed like a party-type girl in that little cave this morning."

"Hey! It was cramped. There wasn't exactly _any_ leg room."

"Come on, you know you liked it."

"You're sick."

"Yeah, I know."

Oliver walked over to us, holding a small pocket knife. He cut our ropes, yanked me up by the wrist and threw me into one of the booths. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at my head right as the door rattled. Startled, he looked toward the door as the people on the wall stopped gasping.

There were three loud bangs and the door flew open and Tru and Sam rushed in. Sam held up his own gun.

"Don't move!" Oliver shouted at Tru, who was going to come help me, "Or I'll shoot her."

Tru stood back and held up her crossbow.

I closed my eyes, afraid that either Sam or Tru would get cocky and make a move. I knew this guy was serious. He'd shoot me and not think twice about it.

I heard a loud click, followed by four even louder gunshots, and I just knew I had been shot. I kept my eyes closed tightly and heard the crowd cheering and laughing and I opened my eyes. Dean stood in front of me, gun in hand, smiling. Oliver was lying on the floor, one bullet in the back of his head and three in his back.

I jumped up and hugged Dean tightly. He wrapped his arms around me and I felt the cold of the gun on my spine and his other hand on the back of my head.

We heard the beginning of "Can't Fight This Feeling", and Dean and I looked at each other.

"Let's get out of here," we said at the same time.

Dean and I walked to his car while Sam and Tru went to my car.

(A/N) Still not sure about the reviews page. Could use help, please.


	5. Chapter 5

"So, that date sucked, huh?" Dean asked, leaning back on his car, "Your worst fear attacked you. That can't feel good."

"No, but it could have been worse. We could have been trapped in an airplane in a hostage situation."

Dean shuddered and I laughed, "Oh, God. Good point."

"So, what now?"

Just then, my phone rang. It was my cousin, Richie.

"Hey, Rich," I said, "Yeah. Maine? Now? Richie, I can't. But... Fine... Yeah, we'll be there. Sure, bye."

I sighed and hung up my phone.

"What's up?" Dean asked.

"That was my cousin. Tru and I have to be in Maine in two days. We have to go. Sorry."

I started to walk back to my car, stopped, turned around, and kissed Dean on the cheek.

"What was that for?"

"For being sweet and saving my life in there."

He smiled and grabbed my shoulders, "Well, in that case..." He leaned down and kissed me back. My heart jumped again and I wrapped my arms around his neck. Yeah, it sounds cheesy, but I couldn't help it. Besides, my feet hurt and he just happened to be tall enough to get me off them for a few moments. I'm bad.

"Tru!" I called when I finally pulled away, "Tru, we have to get to Maine!"

She walked to the passenger's side of my car and climbed in. I started the car and waved to Dean, who waved back, before pulling out and heading down the road back to the motel.

"You were right, Tru, I was wrong," Tru hinted once we were out of the parking lot.

"What?"

"Don't play dumb, I saw your little liplock there. You practically _screamed_ 'Do me, now!'"

"Shut up," I said as we got our bags and checked out.

"I will when you say it, Andy. You know I was right."

We climbed into the car again and pulled out.

"Say it. Andy? Say it."

"Fine, will it make you shut the hell up?!"

"Yes, it will."

"Fine, you were right, I was wrong."

"Thank you."

At last, peace and quiet.

"So his brother was cute, too."

So much for that.

THE END

(A/N) I was in a hurry to finish this one, because I have a new one coming that may be a little bit funnier. So, quality ending was cut short. By a long shot.


End file.
